


Paranoid

by FidotheFinch



Series: Whumptober [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Batfamily (DCU), Dick Grayson is a Talon, Gen, Paranoia, Tags Contain Spoilers, Whumptober, but like it's a crossover with the dark batfamily au, damian bleeds the need for acceptance, takes place in current canon where nobody likes damian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FidotheFinch/pseuds/FidotheFinch
Summary: Damian scratched behind his ear. His neck was bothering him; a tickling feeling like hairs standing on end. He scanned the streets around him, he didn’t know for what, but found nothing to suggest anything was off.Still. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.
Series: Whumptober [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947544
Comments: 21
Kudos: 111





	Paranoid

**Author's Note:**

> For Whumptober, Day 18: paranoia

The rain pouring over the city lifted the smell of hot asphalt and stale urine to the roof Robin stood on, but it wasn’t bad enough for him to consider pulling his hood up again. Yet.

He needed his peripheral vision.

Damian scratched behind his ear. His neck was bothering him; a tickling feeling like hairs standing on end. He scanned the streets around him, he didn’t know for what, but found nothing to suggest anything was off.

Still. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.

It was ridiculous; he was alone on patrol, alone in this sector of Gotham. Batman used to be more cautious of him being by himself, but lately. . .

He pressed the comm in his ear. Released it again, before the static caught up with the signal. He didn’t know who to contact. Father didn’t trust him. Timothy wished he were dead. Richard was. . . gone. And Alfred.

Alfred was _gone_ gone. And it was Damian’s fault.

No. It only took one flash of the disappointment in his father’s eyes to harden his resolve. Robin would deal with this alone. He set his jaw, straightened his spine.

“I know you’re there,” he said. “Reveal yourself.”

The only sound that met him was the quiet hum of the rain. Damian swiveled his head, eyes narrowed, searching the shadows for any movement that would reveal the watchful figure. His hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

“I know you’re out there,” he muttered. “And I’m going to find you.”

He took a running start and leapt off his roof, heading for a place he knew to be more secure. If anybody were following him, they would be forced to leave him alone, or else expose themselves.

When he sprint past an office high-rise, he thought he caught a glimpse of somebody following him in his reflection in the tinted windows. But when he turned, there were only the pigeons he had disturbed.

When he pivoted and grappled off a roof onto a fire escape, a shadow blocked out the light of the moon. But when he looked up, there was nothing there, the moon a dull yellow eye watching him from the low clouds.

He was being paranoid.

Once, when he had gotten several blocks away, he stopped long enough to catch his breath.

Somebody _laughed_.

He whipped around, unsheathing his sword in one smooth motion and bracing it in front of his body. “Show yourself!”

He waited, holding his breath for an answer. His hands tightened their grip rhythmically with his racing heart. He looked to the right and left, near and far.

The night air was still. Nobody was there.

Damian warily sheathed his sword. He was just being paranoid. The events of the last week had him on edge.

Even if his team didn’t trust him, Robin had been recruited for the last mission. A science experiment had gone wrong, in the Batcave, opening a portal. They hadn’t though anything of it at first, but after several minutes a figure had stepped through.

 _Batman_ had stepped through. Except it wasn’t Batman. It was a version of Damian’s Father with colder, calculating eyes. He wore sharp knives on his belt, and when he leapt to attack them, he aimed to _kill_. He had called himself Owlman.

It had taken them days to track him down and figure out how to send him back to his universe. Days spent questioning themselves. Questioning each other.

The memories left a sour taste in Damian’s mouth. Nobody had questioned when Timothy had offered to drug Owlman to keep him down while they figured out how to get the portal to open. But when Damian had tried to set a plan for the villain’s capture?

_“No, Damian.”_

_“But—”_

_“I said_ NO.”

Damian wasn’t sure what had changed.

No. He did.

He reached his safe spot in record time, watching his back for every move. After his earlier outburst, his pursuer had given up on tracking him, it seemed. Still, it didn’t hurt to hang around and check things out.

No sooner had he found a comfortable place to settle than an arm wrapped around his neck from behind.

Damian let loose a squawk, more from surprise than hurt. He hadn’t heard a _thing_. He clawed at the hand around his neck, but after a moment of panicked fumbling, realized the arm was loosening.

And someone was laughing, behind him.

“Really got you good, huh?”

Damian froze.

That voice. . .

“Hey, Dami.”

He held his breath. It couldn’t be real.

The arms didn’t let go completely for another second, but when Damian was able to turn around he couldn’t find words.

It was Nightwing.

It was _Richard_.

Without a second thought, Damian leapt up and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s you.”

Richard laughed. It sounded slightly different, but Damian dismissed it. ‘Ric’ had smoked, right? Or something? That would change it.

Richard stepped back and gently peeled Damian off of him. Damian felt a twinge of hurt, but when he saw the smile on Richard’s face, it washed away.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Richard was beaming. Damian wished he would flip his lenses back so he could see his eyes. “Wow, I can’t believe you reacted like that.”

Damian stepped back at the words, ears heating in embarrassment. “I haven’t seen you in so long. I apologize for my behavior.”

Richard flipped a hand back. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re really back.” Damian looked up and down the Nightwing suit, his heart clenching at the lost familiarity of it, even if he couldn’t make out smaller details in the dim light of his hiding spot.

Richard held his arms out to the side, showing off the blue stripe running down his arms. “Yep.”

Damian cocked his head to the side. “Do the others know?”

Richard’s smile was lopsided. “Nope.” He popped the ‘p.’ “I wanted to tell you, first. You’re so special to me.”

Something in Damian’s chest loosened. Richard was back, and that meant at least one piece of his life was falling back into place. “I will notify Batman—”

“Wait.” A hand shot out and closed around Damian’s wrist, where it was poised over his comm unit. “I want it to be a surprise.”

Damian’s wrist flexed in Richard’s hold, but the fingers only squeezed harder, hard enough to pinch the small bones in his wrist together.

“Nightwing—”

Abruptly, the man let go. Damian tried to subtly shake his wrist out. Whatever he had been doing as ‘Ric’ must have made him stronger. He would never—

“Why don’t we head back to my place?”

Damian instantly forgot his worries. “In Blüdhaven?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Should we not head back to the cave? So you can see Batman?”

A hand landed on top of his head, a little too hard, and ruffled his sopping-wet hair. Damian pouted, reflexively lifting his hand to pat it back into place. Richard only smiled again, lifting his chin in an unfamiliar gesture he must have picked up as ‘Ric.’ His canines were sharp. “Sorry, Robin, I don’t really feel like seeing him right now. You get that, don’t you?”

“I suppose—”

“I just wanted to spend some time with you, before everyone else got involved.”

A warm feeling spread through Damian’s chest at the words. Richard wanted to spend time with _him_. It was a soothing balm against the burns of the last months’ torture. The ache caused by every barb from Ric and his family, the ache of lonely days sitting in the manor, was overshadowed by a few simple words.

Richard was back. And he wanted Damian.

Damian nodded. “I will come with you.” The words filled him with a giddiness he stamped down. No need for Robin to act irrationally. (Richard would see it, anyway, he was sure.)

Richard’s smile was wide. “Follow me.”

“I should tell—”

Richard rested a hand against Damian’s lips and hushed him. This close, Damian went cross-eyed noticing the differences in his hair and the light wrinkles around his eyes. He looked younger, like somebody who worried less. Maybe some time off really could help with healing.

“Don’t tell anybody,” Richard whispered. “It will be our secret.”

Something about the words sent a little warning bell off in the back of his mind. Damian leaned back, away from the hand. He and Richard had spent plenty of nights together before, sure, but the circumstances were different. “Batman will worry if I just disappear.”

Richard cocked his head to the side. His next two words fell like stones in Damian’s gut.

“Will he?”

Damian opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. The circumstances had changed. He wasn’t sure Batman— _father_ —would even notice if he didn’t make it home.

He puffed up his chest. “Let’s go.”

Ric’s apartment had been small, a mess of magazines and trash, clear of the clutter of pictures and sentimental knickknacks. An apartment clear of a lived life.

They took a motorcycle to a nicer part of town—Ric had insisted on living in the cheaper areas, despite Damian’s distaste—and they climbed a fire escape to the top floor and entered through a window.

This new apartment had all of the markings of Richard’s old life. The bookcase in the corner of the living room showed off frame after frame of pictures. One of Richard’s old sweaters, one that he had borrowed from Bruce and never returned, was slung over the back of his couch, obviously well-worn.

Something felt. . . off about the clutter. Everything looked freshly-dusted; the trash can was empty. Damian couldn’t put a finger on it. Richard had grown neater since his time as Ric, but maybe that was because he had cleaned up in preparation for Damian coming over.

The sound of a lock clicking shut made Damian jump. He turned around to see Richard pulling the window shut and reattaching an alarm wire from the inside. “I installed some new security here,” he explained. He flashed Damian that pointed smile again. “Nothing gets in or out of here without me knowing.”

Damian tracked the wire in the window along the wall. It, and the doors, and the other windows were all connected to several small alarms. “You have grown more cautious.”

Richard shrugged. “Getting shot in the head will do that to you, I guess.”

Damian flinched at the reminder. But, just like his hair had grown out long enough to completely hide his scar, Richard seemed unaffected by his own barb. “Great. I’m going to hit the showers.”

Damian turned around again. He was dripping onto the carpeting. “I need to change.”

“There’s a change of clothes that I think will fit you in the other room. I think Ric kept them around just in case.”

Damian stopped. “Really?”

Richard shrugged, not revealing whether he realized the impact his statement made. “Yeah.” He walked through his bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. “You can put your uniform in my safe. Nobody will look for it there.”

Damian nodded as the door shut. The sound of running water filled the room a moment later.

He found the clothes sitting out on the bed already, simple black sweats and a faded GameFriend t-shirt. He changed swiftly, not wanting to waste too much time on his Robin gear when there were months of time to make up for. He threw it into the open safe—under the bed, which was rather obvious, but it was only for the night so he didn’t worry about it—and shut it, happy to hear the click of it closing.

The clothes were soft and warm, and he made himself comfortable on the couch when he noticed that there was a video game console hooked up beneath the television. A stack of games sat next to it.

Because there was nobody there to see it, Damian smiled. For the first time in months, he actually looked forward to the night ahead of him. It would be just like old times; he would wait for Richard to return, and they would bet against each other on their video games, and Damian would tolerate the bad music that Richard played in the background, and Richard would listen to Damian complain about the rest of their family and the new team and understand what he _really_ meant.

Damian missed being understood.

He made himself comfortable on the couch, tucking his feet up so his knees were bent under his chin. There was a throw over the back of the couch, and after only a moment of hesitation Damian slid it down and wrapped himself in it. He left enough room for Richard, of course.

It was taking longer than usual for Richard to get out of the shower, so Damian went ahead and set up the video game console. He looked through the games, too, pleased to find several of his favorites had made it to the cut.

His comm dinged at some point, and Damian cursed. He must have forgotten to turn it off in his haste to change, which seemed silly, now that he had so much time to fill. His comm dinged again, and Damian tutted, sliding to the carpeted floor silently and padding back over to the bed and the safe beneath it. It would keep them up all night, otherwise.

He mechanically entered the numerical code Richard used for all of his vigilante gear, but was struck when the lock’s screen flashed red. Wrong code.

Frowning now, he entered it again, assuming he had mistyped. But the screen flashed red again, accompanied by a loud buzzing sound.

Damian sat back on his heels. Richard had always used the same code, before. This was probably another symptom of the brain damage.

His comm beeped again, a series of chirps that told him somebody was trying to call him directly.

He huffed at the noise and at the safe keeping him from stopping it. But when he looked closer, he recognized a small fingerprint scanner set into the side of the safe, a lock you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it. A clever trick, to help hide his Nightwing gear in an obvious place.

Only Richard could open the safe. Damian would just have to wait.

He settled back on his heels, but suddenly realized the sounds of the shower had ceased. Now that he thought about it, it had been quiet for several minutes.

Richard never took that long to change, before.

The uneasy feeling he had had on the rooftops earlier returned full-force. Damian quietly rose to his feet and went around to each window, checking to make sure the locks were in place.

They were. He knew because he couldn’t open them from the inside.

He tried the front door of the apartment. The knob wouldn’t turn.

When he tracked the electronic locks to their beginning, he found the same fingerprint scanner as the one on the safe.

Richard was just being careful.

No.

Something was wrong.

Just as he had finished inspecting the lock, the bathroom door finally opened. Richard was silhouetted in the light, a black figure against the clean interior of the room.

Damian’s comm was still beeping. “Richard,” he called. “Open the safe so I can turn it off.”

Richard’s head tilted to the side. “I don’t think so.”

Damian froze. “What?”

Richard stalked forward slowly, at ease, and Damian took only one step backward before deciding to hold his ground. “Are you alright?”

“ _I_ am great.” But there was something implied in that sentence, a threat left hanging.

Damian stepped to the side, putting the couch between them. “I don’t understand.”

Richard laughed. “It was so easy to get you here, did you know that? Like offering crumbs to a dog.”

Damian’s hand flew to his hip, where his scabbard would be. But he had changed clothes, and in his trusting state he had locked all of his communication, all of his weapons away. “Richard. You’ve been compromised—”

“Oh, Damian,” and the word was drawn out in a sardonic way, “I guess you never had a chance, not with the way that _bitch_ over at the League trained you.”

Damian flinched at the language. Richard had never—“Do _not_ address my mother in that manner.”

“The Talia in my world was too soft to make a baby. When Owlman told me there was another one of us, I thought you would be a nice addition to his collection.” He sneered down. “But Talia’s goody-two-shoes rule-following was a mercy. She must have known what a _pathetic_ _mutt_ you would be.”

A sharp pain glanced through his chest. One of Damian’s hands rose to the spot, but there was nothing there. Just his heart, beating frantically under his fingers. He shifted backward, away from the looming threat, but his back met the couch.

Richard had him cornered.

“Willing to follow anybody home for a scrap of attention.”

“You don’t—” Damian cut himself off.

Because as Richard leaned down, his eyes, no longer covered by his mask, flashed _gold_.

“Hello, _Damian_.”


End file.
